


"Secret" Santa

by rosegoldroman



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Tiny Sides (Sanders Sides), but tons of platonic fambly fluff, i wrote this at 4 am last night :'3, sort of background logince but not that much, suuuuper fluffy, tiny! sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 09:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoldroman/pseuds/rosegoldroman
Summary: When Logan accidentally reveals a holiday secret to Patton, it's up to him to bring back Patton's belief. But he's not the only one trying to do so. Tiny! Sides fic





	"Secret" Santa

**Author's Note:**

> hey hi hello it's been a while since ive posted here ;u;
> 
> i got this idea late last night and wrote it all in one sitting, so... hopefully it's not as bad as i think it is :'3 
> 
> i think it's pretty cute tho so !!!!! enjoyyyyy and happy holidays yall ily
> 
> (also im really confused over the tagging system so i hope i tagged the relationships right, '&' is for platonic and '/' is for romantic right?)

Logan was not a morning person.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He liked the  _ idea _ of mornings, the concept of watching the world wake up. That moment between the busy chaos of daytime and the dark, static feeling of night was easily one of his favorites. In theory, morning was enjoyable.

But in practice? Not so much.

He’d managed to maintain a somewhat reasonable sleep schedule — despite his many,  _ many _ all-nighters — but that didn’t stop him from spending every morning griping and groaning until he got his night-owl hands on a cup of coffee. As Patton had once said, he was a “grumpy gills” in the morning.

(As Roman had once said, he was a “bitch.”)

He’d woken surprisingly early that day, but elected to stay in bed just a bit longer, too warm to leave his blankets just yet. He could hear Roman singing to himself as he cooked breakfast, some loud Christmas tune. As he hit the chorus, Virgil burst in, loudly yelling the beginning to one of  _ his _ favorite songs, and yelling broke out. Logan sighed through his nose, letting his eyes slip shut.

He wasn’t ready to face that just yet. Though their argument wasn’t  _ serious _ — more of a mock-teasing sort of thing — it was  _ loud. _ Honestly, though, he couldn’t blame them for getting a bit heated; things had been tense ever since…

His door swung open and crashed into the wall with a deafening  _ bang _ , and a blur of light blue and red ran inside and tackled him around the middle with a cry of delight. Logan choked as a pair of tiny arms wrapped around him and held tight.

Since  _ that. _ Since a trip into Roman’s realm and a scuffle with the Dragon Witch had made Patton’s child-like personality  _ literal, _ leaving them caught in the awkward position of babysitter as Roman raced to find a cure. 

Patton buried his face in Logan’s chest, his gleeful giggles muffled by Logan’s dark blue pajamas. The fluffy white ball on the end of his bright red hat shoved into Logan’s face, and he grimaced, gently patting Patton to try to get him away.

“Lo-lo!” Patton cried, his chin jutting into Logan’s chest as he craned his neck up to look at him. “Guess what day it is! Guess!”

Logan sighed. Suddenly, Patton’s hat made sense. “December 24th,” he said, forcing his frustration away. Patton beamed, and only hugged Logan tighter as he began to bounce, his too-big glasses sliding down his nose.

“D’ya know what that means?” Patton asked, and then answered before Logan could. “It’s Chrithmus eve!” he cried with a lisp, his smile bright enough to make the sunlight streaming through the windows dim in shame.

“Christmas eve,” Logan corrected, enunciating the words slowly. Patton let out a bubbly laugh, his Santa hat bobbing as he bounced.

“Yeah! Chrithmus eve!” Logan fell back against his headboard as Patton shifted, never drawing his arms from around Logan’s middle. Logan’s chest was beginning to ache. “And — an’ d’ya know what  _ that _ means?”

Patton jerked up, pushing against Logan to meet his eyes. “It means Santa’s comin’!” he yelled, and Logan winced at his volume. “He’s comin’ tonight!”

“That —” Logan grimaced as Patton’s knees dug into his thighs. “That’s great, Patton. Now, how about —”

“He’s gonn’ come, and —!” He cut off with a happy giggle “He’s bringin’ presents!”

“Yes, well —”

“Presents for everyone!” Patton cried, the end of his hat flopping into his face. He shoved it away, his smile never faltering. Suddenly, he gasped, pressing his nsoe to Logan’s in utter excitement. “D’you think he’ll let me pet his reindeer?” he whispered.

He didn’t give Logan a chance to respond — no, he didn’t even give Logan a chance to  _ think, _ he yelled and laughed and jumped around and Logan grit his teeth and forced back the headache he knew was coming. God, what he’d give for some  _ coffee. _

“Santa’s comin’ tonight, tonight, Santa’s comin’ tonight!” Patton sang, his voice a shrill, high-pitched imitation of Spongebob. Logan tried to untangle himself from Patton’s tight grasp and failed.

“Patton, please —”

“He’s gonna have his big red bag and his sleigh and —! He’s gonn’ bring all 27 puppies I asked for! Ro-ro said so!”

_ “Patton —” _

“I wonder if he’ll give me a hug!” Patton squeezed Logan tighter and Logan tensed, an awful, boiling feeling mounting in his chest. “I wanna hug from Santa! And I can give him cookies — me an’ Ro-ro are gonna make cookies tonight, you can help! And —”

_ “Santa is not real!” _

The yell tore from his mouth before he could stop it, laced with frustration and anger and exhaustion. It was like he’d hit Patton’s off switch; he froze, his excited ramble crashing to a halt. Silence fell over the room, and Logan couldn’t help the wince of regret that flittered across his face.

Slowly, Patton drew his arms from around Logan. He leaned back, gazing up at Logan with wide eyes. His smile was gone. “Wh… what?”

“I-I mean —” Logan couldn’t meet Patton’s eyes — he ignored the way they were starting to shine, not with excitement but with oncoming tears. “I mean, well, he’s real in the sense that he’s a symbol, a sort of mythological being, but —”

Fat tears had begun to well in Patton’s eyes. His bottom lip had begun to tremble. Logan cut off with a stammer, pushing away the sad-static feeling in his chest on instinct. “Patton, I…”

Patton shoved away, his silent tears giving way to loud wailing. Logan heard the conversation downstairs silence instantly and knew that he’d just sentenced himself to death. Patton pushed away Logan’s hands and leapt off the bed, running out the door with a loud, tearful cry, and Logan rushed after him, struggling out of his tangled sheets and stumbling into the hall.

“Patton, wait!” he called. He scooped up Patton’s hat from where it had fallen onto the carpet and raced down the stairs, turning the corner just in time to see Patton barrel into Virgil’s arms. He froze, swallowing hard.

Though he’d never admit it, he admired the moments where Roman and Virgil completely put aside their differences in the face of a common enemy. He’d just… never anticipated how terrifying it would be to  _ be _ that enemy. They glared at him with more fury than he’d ever felt in his life, and he didn’t dare step any closer.

“He — he said —” Patton sobbed into VIrgil’s chest. Roman kneeled beside them and ran a comforting hand down his back, shushing him placatingly. “He said Santa’s not — not real!”

You could have heard a pin drop. Save for Patton’s soft sobs, the room had gone silent. Virgil wrapped his arms protectively around Patton, regardling Logan with narrowed eyes.

“You did  _ what?” _

Logan cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, as evenly as he could. “It merely slipped out. Regardless, i-it wasn’t  _ my _ fault, he wouldn’t be quiet.”

“He’s a  _ child,” _ Roman said, sounding betrayed. “A child who should be allowed to believe!”

“That’s not cool, L,” Virgil agreed, gently running his hand through Patton’s curly hair. Logan twisted the hat in his hands, biting his lip as his guilt refused to be pushed away. 

“Wouldn’t it be wiser to — to not give him false hope?” he said. “When he’s back to normal, he’ll know, and you know how he feels about lying.”

“This isn’t lying!” Roman growled, pushing himself to his feet. “It’s  _ Christmas! _ It’s tradition! It’s wonder and happiness! But you wouldn’t know anything about  _ that _ , would you?”

“Falsehood,” Logan snapped. “I am aware of the  _ emotions _ the holiday is meant to convey, I simply think lying to him now when he’ll learn the truth so quickly is foolish! It’s different with actual children, this is an extreunating circumstance!”

Patton cried harder. Logan cut himself off before he could yell any more, and took a step back despite himself. Virgil held Patton tight and glared venomously.

“Y’know what? I don’t  _ care _ what you ‘simply think,’” he growled. “You made Patton  _ cry,  _ and you don’t give a sh — you don’t even care. You don’t like Christmas, fine, whatever. But stay away from him.”

Logan schooled his face before he could wince. “If I could just —”

“No.” Roman stepped between him and the others. “You’ve done enough, you Grinch. Why don’t you just go brew in your hum-buggery?”

Logan held the hat so tightly that his knuckles went white. Gritting his teeth, he took another step back, looking from Roman to Virgil. His gaze fell on Patton, and all his arguments vanished.

“Fine,” he said, turning and marching back up the stairs without another word. He slammed the door to his room shut and threw the hat onto his bed, and began to pace. He knew he was wrong — and he hated it with every fibre of his being. 

But how could he make it right? A simple apology wouldn’t cut it, especially not with a child. No, he couldn’t apologize and move on, they wouldn’t let him. He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and bit back a sigh, pacing ever faster.

He couldn’t hear Patton crying anymore. He hoped that was a good sign. Maybe he could just hide up here until it blew over? Maybe even until Patton was his usual, grown-up self again? 

He winced. No, that wouldn’t do. He’d feel — ugh,  _ feel _ — far too guilty if he simply avoided the issue altogether. He had to  _ fix _ it, not just apologize.

But to “fix it,” he’d have to convince Patton that Santa  _ was _ real. How would he even do that? Telling Patton wouldn’t work, he’d never been a good liar when it came to serious conversations. Then how…?

He froze. His eyes had fallen on the Santa hat lying on his bed, and an idea had popped, unbidden, into his head. It was the worst idea he’d ever heard — but yet, as he picked up the hat and turned it in his hands, just as he turned the idea over in his head, he couldn’t deny that it might work. 

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a long, regretful sigh. He’d really done it this time.

Downstairs, Christmas Eve was in full swing. Patton helped Roman bake cookies and curled up against Virgil as they watched movies, and, at Patton’s request, Logan even joined them a few times, though he always left not long after, followed by Roman and Virgil’s deadly glares. But no matter how many cookies he baked or how many Santa-themed movies his family showed him, Patton stayed subdued, quiet and sad.

(The sight broke Logan’s heart.)

Night came quickly. Roman and Virgil tucked Patton into bed, and the house went quiet. It was now or never; Logan set his plan into action.

First, he snuck into Patton’s room, and silently stole the cup of water from his bedside table. Patton, even before he’d been cursed, always woke up thirsty in the middle of the night. With no water there, he’d have to come downstairs.

Which was where Logan came in. He got dressed quickly, shoving a pillow under his coat for good measure, and sat in the common room to wait. Time passed — first minutes, then hours — and Logan was just beginning to lose hope when he heard footsteps in the hallway.

“Here we go,” he whispered to himself, readjusting his fake, scratchy beard. He pushed off the couch and crouched near the tree, pulling boxes from the hastily-sewn bag draped over his shoulder. The footsteps grew louder, and then stopped altogether, and he heard a soft, wonder-filled gasp.

_ “Santa?” _

He sucked in a deep breath and turned, plastering a smile across his face.

“Yes!” he said, as convincingly as he could (not very convincingly). “It is I, ah, Santa Claus, yes. Salutations, Patton.”

_ Too robotic, _ he chided himself, but Patton didn’t seem to care. He gaped, his eyes wide and sparkling with wonder, and Logan forced out a  _ ho, ho, ho _ for good measure.

“You  _ are _ real!” Patton gasped, his face breaking out in a wide, beaming grin. He began bouncing up and down. “You’re real! I knew it, I knew it!”

“Yes, yes, I’m real!” Logan said, spreading his arms wide. “I am here to, ah, deliver your presents!”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Patton said in a mad rush as he dashed forward, catching Logan around the middle. Logan only hesitated for a moment before he wrapped his arms around the tiny child, holding tight. “Gosh, Santa, your tummy feels like a pillow!”

Logan chuckled awkwardly, pulling away before Patton could see how right he was. “Hm, yes, well, ‘bowl full of jelly’ and all that.”

Patton laughed gleefully. “I’m so glad you’re real, Santa! Logan said you weren’t but I knew he was wrong, I knew it, and now you’re here! Was I good this year, did I do good?”

Logan smiled. “You were remarkably good, Patton. You’ve more than earned your presents.”

Patton let out a happy cry and hugged him again, practically vibrating with excitement. Logan hugged him back, and patted him on the head as he drew away.

“Now, you should get back to bed. Maintaing a healthy sleep schedule is —” He cut himself off, as he was beginning to sound too much like himself. “I mean, um, sleeping well is a good way to keep yourself on the, uh, nice list.”

Patton nodded earnestly, his hair flopping up and down. “I will, I promise!” he said, holding out his pinky. “Pinky promise!”

Logan looped his pinky around Patton’s. “Pinky promise,” he repeated, his voice soft. “Now, off to bed. Goodnight, Patton.”

“Goodnight, Santa!” Patton said, beaming. “I love you!”

Logan froze. His chest felt warm, almost uncomfortably so. “I… I love you too,” he whispered. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Chrith —”

_ “Ho, ho, ho!” _

The two froze, and Logan’s blood ran ice cold. Another figure bounded into the room, carrying a massive red bag bedazzled with sequins over his shoulders.

“Behold, all ye faithful, for Santa has arrived!” Logan would recognize that infuratingly dramatic voice anywhere, even hidden beneath the ridiculous old man tone he’d adopted. His costume was more a dress than a suit, long folds of glittering scarlet and glittering white fluff, and — was his  _ beard _ glittering too?

_ “Two Santas?” _ Patton cried, incredulous. Logan shot to his feet, eyes wide, as Roman’s heavily makeuped eyes fell on him.

Logan couldn’t believe this. His  _ one _ shot at making things right, and Roman was ruining everything! “What are you doing here?” he hissed before he could stop himself, cutting off immediately when Patton’s overjoyed expression faltered. “I mean — you’re, uh, supposed to be... back at the North Pole…?” he tried.

Roman only glared at him for a split second before falling into his role. “Ah, yes, I know! Forgive me, I couldn’t help myself! I wanted to give the children of the world even more gifts! Especially this dear child right here, such a lovely, good little angel!”

_ Too much, _ Logan tried to say with his eyes, but Patton seemed so delighted that he could barely speak. He stumbled over his words, looking between the two Santas with wide-eyed wonder.

“I’m a lovely, good little angel?” he asked when he’d finally gotten a hold of his voice. Roman let out a dramatic cry, swooping down to kneel beside him.

“Why, only the best!” he declared, ruffling Patton’s hair. “It was my husbands turn to deliver the gifts, but I simply couldn’t resist visiting such a wonderful child!”

_ Husband? _ Heat rushed to Logan’s cheeks. He cleared his throat, subtly readjusting the pillow tucked beneath his jacket as he kneeled beside Patton, whose delight was growing by the second.

“Santa’s  _ gay?!” _ he cried, looking like it was the best news he’d ever gotten. The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched.

“Yes, of course,” he answered, nodding matter-of-factly. “Mrs. Claus is simply a myth. My — my  _ husband _ and I double as Santa Claus, bringing gifts to all the good children of the world!” He waved his hand through the air, copying the gesture he’d seen Roman perform so many times, and Roman snorted.

“He’s the traditional Santa, as you can tell. I am the  _ fabulous _ Santa~!” Roman sang, running a hand through his glittering mess of a fake beard. 

“You’re so  _ sparkly!” _ Patton agreed, reaching out to run a hand along Roman’s robe. “Lo-lo’s never gonna b’lieve this, there’s  _ two _ Santas! He was wrong  _ twice!” _

Roman slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, and Logan rolled his eyes. “Yes, well,  _ Lo-lo _ does his best to be right all the time, so you should cut him some slack,” he said stiffly, shooting Roman a look.

“Yeah!” Patton agreed instantly, nodding. “Lo-lo’s a really good try-er!”

“That he is, dear one,” Roman said, his voice shaking with laughter. “He certainly is a try-hard.”

“He said  _ try-er,” _ Logan corrected sharply. Roman shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “Now then, we need to… continue delivering our gifts, and you need to get back to bed.”

“Yes! Even the bestest of children needs to sleep!” Roman said, tapping Patton’s nose. Patton giggled as the two Santas got to their feet, and Logan tried not to sigh when he saw how much glitter was raining off of Roman’s costume. That would be a  _ nightmare _ to clean.

“Goodnight, Santas!” Patton said, beaming a gap-toothed grin. Roman grinned right back, patting him on the head fondly.

“Goodnight, dear one. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Patton.”

“Merry Crithmas!” Patton said with a giggle, bounding back towards the stairs. But before he reached the top, he froze, gasping loudly. “Wait!” he cried, rushing back down. “I gotta ask you something!”

“Yes?” Roman asked, draping his bag over his shoulder. Patton pushed his hair out of his face and looked between the Santas, his brow furrowing.

“Is Lo-lo on the nice list?”

Silence fell over the room. Logan hesitated, swallowing, as Roman shot him a glance. Patton seemed earnestly worried. “Are you… concerned that he might not be?” he said, his voice slow and quiet.

Patton nodded. “He’s lost,” he said softly, and for a moment he sounded much older than he appeared. “But that doesn’t mean he’s bad.”

Logan opened his mouth to answer, but found the words wouldn’t —  _ couldn’t _ come. His thoughts slowed to a halt, caught on Patton’s words, repeating them over and over like a broken record.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Roman said after a moment, looking at Logan rather than Patton. “He’s lost, but that doesn’t mean he cannot find his way. After all, he has us — I mean, his family to help him.”

“That…” Logan’s voice sounded strangely thick, and far away. He cleared his throat, offering Roman a meaningful glance before turning back to Patton. “That’s right, he’s… he’s not alone. And he is, ah, on the nice list.”

“Good!” In an instant, Patton was beaming again. “I jus’ wan’ed to make sure. I was gonn’ share my… presents with him…” He was beginning to slur his words, his smile growing tired, his eyes growing bleary.

“Just being with you would be… present enough,” Logan said, losing his “Santa” accent for a moment. Roman kneeled down and opened his arms wide, and Patton barreled into him, nearly knocking him backwards. Logan barely even hesitated; he closed the hug, wrapping his arms tightly around the two.

“Patton,” Logan said as they drew apart. “Do you know what is green, covered in tinsel, and says ‘ribbit, ribbit?’”

Patton rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “What?”

“A mistle-toad.”

Patton gasped, delighted, and Logan ignored the Look Roman gave him as the child began giggling happily. Letting out a quiet breath, Logan climbed back to his feet, pulling the child-sized Santa hat from his pocket and setting it atop Patton’s head.

“Goodnight, Patton. Merry Christmas.”

Patton yawned, smiling sleepily. “Goodnight, Santas.”

And he set off, back up the stairs and back to his room. Logan sagged in relief, yanking off his Santa hat and running a hand through his mussed hair. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“I can’t believe you actually did this,” Roman said, and Logan winced, because he’d forgotten for a moment that he was still there. “Not such a Grinch after all, huh?”

“Shut up,” Logan snapped, but it held more warmth than venom. “I can’t believe you nearly ruined everything.”

“Uh, ruined? I prefer to think I  _ improved _ it!” Roman scoffed proudly. “I made Santa  _ gay _ .”

“I… I will admit, that is an improvement.” Logan sighed and pulled the pillow from beneath his jacket. “Do you think it worked?”

“Absolutely,” Roman said with a grin. “Did you see the  _ awe _ on his face? He’s not going to stop talking about this for weeks.”

Logan allowed himself a small smile. “Good. Now then…” He held out his hand, flexing his fingers, and a small stuffed reindeer appeared in his grip. A pair of felt glasses were sewn to its face, and a necktie had been tied around its neck, alongside a note attached with ribbon. 

Roman tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“An apology,” Logan explained, setting the toy down beneath the tree. “‘Santa’ renewed his belief, but…  _ I _ must apologize as well for what I did to him. He mentioned wanting to pet Santa’s reindeer, but I didn’t think summoning a full, living reindeer was the best idea.”

“Yeah, probably not. You  _ suck _ at summoning.”

Logan blinked. “Thanks,” he deadpanned.

“You’re welcome!” Roman teased. “Anyway, that’s  _ adorable _ . He’ll love it.”

“I… I hope so.” Logan cleared his throat, readjusting his jacket in lieu of his tie. “Well. It’s late, I should be getting to bed.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Wouldn’t want to ruin your sleep schedule, would we, Mr. Claus?”

“I am never going to live this down,” Logan said, resigned to his fate. He sighed, shaking his head. “You should sleep as well, ah, Mr. Claus.”

Together, the two started up the stairs. Roman shook glitter from his coat with every step he took, leaving a sparkling trail. “You know, Logan, you’re pretty good at improv.”

“Really?” Logan hummed. “Interesting.”

And they disappeared down the hall.

* * *

Virgil sat on the kitchen floor, watching the video for the tenth time that night. He stifled his laughter behind his sleeve, practically vibrating with glee. It had been a stroke of absolute  _ genius _ to hide out and record. He’d only been expecting Roman — the prince had told him about his plan earlier that day — but this?

“Mrs. Claus is simply a myth. My — my  _ husband _ and I double as Santa Claus, bringing gifts to all the good children of the world!” Logan said, his voice tinny through the phone speaker. Virgil snorted as he waved his hand through the air, tears of laughter gathering in the corners of his eyes.

This was  _ more than he could have ever hoped for. _ He would never,  _ ever _ let Logan live this down. He’d quote this video until the day he died, and then even after. 

_ This was the best Christmas present he could have asked for. _

 


End file.
